picture from the graveyard cued up in her image library. “I just wondered if I could talk to you about Olive.”
Jessie rolled her eyes. “Did she get an order wrong for you? She messed up Arvid Faltskog’s latte on Friday and made it double-caf instead of no-caf, and the poor man e-mailed me at two thirty a.m. on Saturday morning to tell me he still hadn’t fallen asleep.” She laughed, deep and throaty, and Betty couldn’t help but smile, too. “I gave him a dozen free donuts to make up for it. And if you need something, too, it’s not a problem.”
“It’s not that,” Betty said, a nervous fluttering in her stomach. She wondered suddenly if she was doing the right thing, going to Jessie about the picture. It felt better than going to the police, or to the girls’ parents, whom she didn’t know. She had a feeling Jessie was the one keeping the closest eye on her sister, and she hoped her instincts were right.
“I’m in sort of a pickle with Knots and Bolts,” she said, hoping she sounded calm and reasonable, “because of all the recent damage to property around town in conjunction with Halloween. Normally it wouldn’t affect me at all, but I had that banner up for a short time—”
“The Satan is here one, yeah,” Jessie said, nodding. “I remember.”
“Well, that, coupled with a Halloween display I’d made, has people kind of worried that maybe I’m connected to all the graffiti and smashed pumpkins, and that they shouldn’t support my store.”
Jessie’s eyes were wide in her pretty face. “Seriously? That’s, like, the stupidest conclusion to jump to ever.”
“Tell me about it,” Betty agreed. “So that’s why I decided to see if I couldn’t catch some of the Halloween vandals. Just to prove I wasn’t part of them. If I had a name and a face that weren’t mine connected to the damage, maybe the town would cut me some slack. You know?”
“That makes total sense.” Jessie’s perfect brows drew together. “But I’m not sure what this has to do with me. Or the Rolling Pin?”
The fluttering in Betty’s stomach had become a full-on roller coaster. “I may have had some luck snapping a picture of one of the vandals last night. Does this person look familiar to you?” She handed over her phone, grateful that her hands weren’t shaking too much.
Jessie took the device and her countenance froze. Several tense moments passed. Finally, Jessie looked up through her darkly mascaraed eyelashes. “Where was this taken?”
“At the cemetery.”
Jessie’s jaw clenched visibly. “Were there any others?”
“We saw other shapes, yes, but this is the only person we got on camera. Look, Jessie, I’m not trying to make trouble. And this is only one blurry photo. But I thought maybe you could talk—”
“I’ll get her to stop,” Jessie said crisply. She suddenly looked weary. “One way or another, I’ll work on her. And I’m sorry, Betty. I am. Things are just tough.”
Betty grabbed the young woman’s hand. The organ was playing. Service was starting. “How so?” she asked, even as she knew they should find their seats. “What’s going on?”
Jessie looked off, like she could see through the stained glass window, straight into the bright fall morning. “Olive lives with me now. She was with our mom, but Mom isn’t exactly Mother of the Year material. And I mean—I got her the job at the bakery, and I thought things were okay, but I guess they’re not.”
“They’re not falling apart either, though,” Betty said gently. “This isn’t prison-level stuff. It’s mostly petty. We all did stupid things when we in high school. Frankly, I wouldn’t care at all if my store wasn’t at risk.”
Up in front of the church, Randall was taking his place at the pulpit. The organ was sputtering its last chords.
“She doesn’t always listen to me,” Jessie said, “but I promise I’ll try to get her to stop. And if I need help, can I—that is, would you and
Jessie rolled her eyes. “Did she get an order wrong for you? She messed up Arvid Faltskog’s latte on Friday and made it double-caf instead of no-caf, and the poor man e-mailed me at two thirty a.m. on Saturday morning to tell me he still hadn’t fallen asleep.” She laughed, deep and throaty, and Betty couldn’t help but smile, too. “I gave him a dozen free donuts to make up for it. And if you need something, too, it’s not a problem.”
“It’s not that,” Betty said, a nervous fluttering in her stomach. She wondered suddenly if she was doing the right thing, going to Jessie about the picture. It felt better than going to the police, or to the girls’ parents, whom she didn’t know. She had a feeling Jessie was the one keeping the closest eye on her sister, and she hoped her instincts were right.
“I’m in sort of a pickle with Knots and Bolts,” she said, hoping she sounded calm and reasonable, “because of all the recent damage to property around town in conjunction with Halloween. Normally it wouldn’t affect me at all, but I had that banner up for a short time—”
“The Satan is here one, yeah,” Jessie said, nodding. “I remember.”
“Well, that, coupled with a Halloween display I’d made, has people kind of worried that maybe I’m connected to all the graffiti and smashed pumpkins, and that they shouldn’t support my store.”
Jessie’s eyes were wide in her pretty face. “Seriously? That’s, like, the stupidest conclusion to jump to ever.”
“Tell me about it,” Betty agreed. “So that’s why I decided to see if I couldn’t catch some of the Halloween vandals. Just to prove I wasn’t part of them. If I had a name and a face that weren’t mine connected to the damage, maybe the town would cut me some slack. You know?”
“That makes total sense.” Jessie’s perfect brows drew together. “But I’m not sure what this has to do with me. Or the Rolling Pin?”
The fluttering in Betty’s stomach had become a full-on roller coaster. “I may have had some luck snapping a picture of one of the vandals last night. Does this person look familiar to you?” She handed over her phone, grateful that her hands weren’t shaking too much.
Jessie took the device and her countenance froze. Several tense moments passed. Finally, Jessie looked up through her darkly mascaraed eyelashes. “Where was this taken?”
“At the cemetery.”
Jessie’s jaw clenched visibly. “Were there any others?”
“We saw other shapes, yes, but this is the only person we got on camera. Look, Jessie, I’m not trying to make trouble. And this is only one blurry photo. But I thought maybe you could talk—”
“I’ll get her to stop,” Jessie said crisply. She suddenly looked weary. “One way or another, I’ll work on her. And I’m sorry, Betty. I am. Things are just tough.”
Betty grabbed the young woman’s hand. The organ was playing. Service was starting. “How so?” she asked, even as she knew they should find their seats. “What’s going on?”
Jessie looked off, like she could see through the stained glass window, straight into the bright fall morning. “Olive lives with me now. She was with our mom, but Mom isn’t exactly Mother of the Year material. And I mean—I got her the job at the bakery, and I thought things were okay, but I guess they’re not.”
“They’re not falling apart either, though,” Betty said gently. “This isn’t prison-level stuff. It’s mostly petty. We all did stupid things when we in high school. Frankly, I wouldn’t care at all if my store wasn’t at risk.”
Up in front of the church, Randall was taking his place at the pulpit. The organ was sputtering its last chords.
“She doesn’t always listen to me,” Jessie said, “but I promise I’ll try to get her to stop. And if I need help, can I—that is, would you and
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